Gert Strydom, 11 october 2013
My darling wife, the seasons come and go
but the summer-sun is in your laughter,
spring is in your eyes
and sometimes innocent like a child
you want to look past the times of life
as if there is something precious in every day.
There is intensity when I hold you in my arms
when we stand still for a mere moment.
It’s as if my whole life long I had to wait for you
and you do make me great
even in my inabilities.
Satish Verma, 11 october 2013
today i am not one whole, placid;
blood streaked globe of full moon
was hovering over me all night
to freeze a ruined landscape, i was
not ready for the departure, untying
the knots of water, like the storm opening
the mouth of a hidden cave in a deep sea,
there was anything unsaid between us,
a new verb joining strange nouns, the lips
swimming in coral tears, amid the frail
words of assaults and wounds of fractured
signatures; in the end are left only the orbits
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 10 october 2013
The indelible precision of God’s holy Word
has been fine tuned for the Human soul;
genuine application of its divine secrets
will assist us to become spiritually whole.
For the Scriptures are meant to be profitable,
and were originally encased by Jehovah’s breath.
The sacred aspirations for Man’s eternal life
are contained in principles for overcoming death.
Agnostic skeptics of circular Biblical arguments,
intentionally chose to ignore The Word’s confirmations;
meanwhile, we know that the text is open to reproof,
as we study precepts for seeking our divine connection.
For it’s only in God, that one can find completeness,
seeing that we strive to live in brotherly accord;
be trained and equipped with His divine influence
since all Scripture is… God’s inspirational word.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
2 Tim 3:16-17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Geetima Baruah Sarma, 10 october 2013
O winged ones,
You come in thousands
From distant lands
To enjoy the cool lap
Of the winter season
And enjoy your sojourn.
Don’t you feel weary
Flying across the miles?
I overwhelm with
Feelings of wonder
As I observe your unity,
Strength and splendour.
[Published in 'PoemsClub.com' on 10 October 2013]
Gert Strydom, 10 october 2013
During the last days of winter
we have planted
white Iceberg roses,
blue, purple and yellow irises,
geraniums of the F3 hybrid
and all colours of gazanias
along the palisade of the front garden
and even grass-carnations, pansies,
and Sweet Williams are already flowering
and even a bush of yesterday-today-and-tomorrow
brings a kind of beauty to what life is.
Gert Strydom, 10 october 2013
There is something great to gardening
and in these early days of spring
some birds do frolic and flutter
while others do sing
Satish Verma, 10 october 2013
Sometimes it pours like hot
drips of melted wax from a candlestick;
your migraine.
I wanted armistice.
Untangle the lies,
I am not in your firing line.
The tulips in the barrel of your gun
cannot forgive the bullets.
There will be no ceremony after the funeral.
Give a slice of blue departure
of moon to light the beach,
there was a brutal murder on the lake
among the muffled waves of protest
in the home of insanes, who were
praying for the sun to return.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 9 october 2013
(after Sir Thomas Wyatt)
She whom once did me seek flee away
and it is somewhat kind of strange to me
that something did change and she cannot stay
as if I have some kind of iniquity
while she hides behind a sweet kind of guise
and it is very strange this sad awakening
comes as a sudden kind of dim surprise
as there is much pain in the forsaking
and in the morning’s bright new day
she does continually want to be free
even the kind of music that she plays
has a kind of rebellion that I see,
when I do touch her, her arm hairs do rise
and all of this has me worried and thinking,
makes me cry right up to the red sunrise,
as there is much pain in the forsaking
and I will have her right back if I may
but that is not how things are going to be
while to another lover she is set to stray,
want to make me for her sake feel guilty
and to want her back, to stay is unwise
but terribly my heart keeps on aching
and of her intents I can just surmise,
as there is much pain in the forsaking.
[Reference: “The lover showeth how he is forsaken” “They flee from me that sometime did me seek” by Sir Thomas Wyatt.]
Gert Strydom, 9 october 2013
(after Gert Vlok Nel)
On a campus in Summerset West you did look at me
and to me you seemed more beautiful than any other girl
with the sun shining out of your eyes
and I brought you roses, about a thousand times,
tried to write poems to you
and you were in my blood, my head and body.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over.
but things changed and we did separate
and forever you wanted me out of your life
until a day where your world did fall apart,
when your new husband thought that you were mad
when you did drink some pills
and on the telephone you did sound very sad.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over.
You told me that you were never untrue,
your glance did fit with you beautiful words,
your body was covered by a flowery sun-dress
and at Sun City it was only you and me
and I remembered the days in the apartment in Bellville
how we did cling shivering to each other in the bedroom.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over.
But on that day we did nothing
and we did not even kiss each other
and when you did smile my heart did go wild
but in your life there were more than just the two of us
and still my heart was broken.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over
but with the things of women I was rather silly.
[Reference; “Beautiful in Beaufort-Wes” by Gert Vlok Nel.]
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